


Carry You

by Millohoff



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, But no one dies, F/M, Hard Upbringing, M/M, Mentioning of Deceased Characters, Multi, Mutual Pining, Overheard Conversations, Sexual Tension, Sharing a Bed, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2019-11-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:54:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21597205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Millohoff/pseuds/Millohoff
Summary: When Clarke Griffin has to stay at Bellamy Blake's place, they may end up learning things about each other, and themselves, that they never knew.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, Finn Collins/Clarke Griffin, Finn Collins/Original Female Character(s), Finn Collins/Raven Reyes, Monty Green/Nathan Miller, Octavia Blake/Lincoln
Comments: 10
Kudos: 64
Collections: Pen15 is Mightier Holiday Gift Exchange 2019





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [slyth_princess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/slyth_princess/gifts).



> I know this pairing isn't your OTP, but I hope you enjoy it anyway, slyth_princess!

Clarke Griffin hadn’t wanted to be standing in front of Bellamy Blake’s front door at 3 am - but here she was. She also hadn’t wanted to be woken up by a steady stream of water droplets hitting her in the face - as they came down from the ceiling of her dorm room in the middle of the night. But she guessed that sort of thing just happened. To some people. Or at least that sort of thing happened to her. Clarke took a deep breath and knocked. Minutes seemed to pass as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, hugging her bag close to her chest as if trying to preserve body heat by hiding behind hastily collected clothes and biology textbooks. It was a chilly December night and Clarke’s breath came out in white puffs of smoke. Should she knock again or would that just seem indignant, needy, or some third thing she wouldn’t want Octavia’s aloof, PhD-writing older brother to associate with her? Just as Clarke decided that knocking one more time couldn’t hurt since Bellamy would probably already find her extremely annoying, seeing as it was the middle of the night, the door opened. Clarke snatched back her hovering hand that had been just about to knock on Bellamy’s chest. She looked up, meeting his eyes. They were dark as always, like the color of really dark chocolate – the kind you were supposed to say you preferred even if you really liked milk chocolate the best. Right now, though, his chocolate eyes seemed sort of glazed over. He had definitely been asleep. And he definitely wasn’t happy to have been woken up. 

“Uhm … hi,” Clarke said in voice that was approximately one octave higher than usual. She made a small cough and continued in her normal, slightly huskier tone, “I’m really sorry to wake you like this, but Octavia said that her door was always open, and I was just sort of evacuated from my room so I thought I …”

“Evacuated? What happened? Is everything all right? Was there another bomb threat?” Bellamy interrupted. He had gone from looking tired and mostly disinterested to full-on teacher mode, ready to protect the students of Arkadia University from any and all threats.

Clarke raised a hand to stop him. “No no, nothing like that! I’m pretty sure they caught the guy who sent that threat last week. It was just some freshman trying to get out of exams, I guess.” She made a small nervous laugh. Bellamy relaxed his stance slightly but didn’t say anything, didn’t join in her awkward laughter. Maybe he considered joking about bomb threats poor taste, or maybe he just didn’t fancy standing in the cold night air talking to his little sister’s babbling friend, who he’d seemed to find annoying from the first time he’d laid eyes on her. “Uhm yeah, so no bomb threat, but it did start raining in my room.”

Dark eyebrows shot up as an incredulous look spread on his face. “It started raining?”

“Yeah… Apparently, one of the girls from the floor above mine was drunk and fell asleep in the shower. She flooded the entire bathroom and used so much water that it started coming down through my ceiling. The super said they would need to assess and repair the damage before I can stay in there again, but I don’t really have anywhere to stay while they’re fixing it.” 

“Don’t you have any friends in your dorm you could stay with?” he said drily. “It would have been a lot easier and safer than walking across campus in the middle of the night to get here.”

“Well I don’t exactly get along with the people at Sky Kru, but I did drive here so…”.

With a sigh, Bellamy snatched her bag and turned around. As she followed him into his university-allotted teacher’s apartment, she closed the door against the crisp air and twinkling Christmas lights, which adorned almost all of the other apartments in the complex. Clarke thought she heard him mumble something like: “Of course, she has a car.”

Bellamy put down her bag and gestured towards a sort of dingy-looking green couch. “Make yourself at home.” Before Clarke had time to reply or perhaps even make a snarky remark about his chilly welcome, he was walking away from her and down a small hallway next to the kitchen. Sighing, she plopped onto the old piece of furniture, making it squeak sadly.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“O!” Bellamy said as he tapped on his sister’s door. He kept knocking, hitting the door a little harder each time until it opened and Octavia popped her head out, her long, dark hair cascading down over her shoulders. Even though it was late, she looked much too awake to actually have been sleeping. Why the hell couldn’t she have answered the door?

“What is it, Bell?” she asked as she tied a robe more tightly around herself. Bellamy couldn’t remember seeing it before. It looked like it was made of silk or at least some other fancy fabric that was much too expensive for a student on a barista salary to be buying. That was a conversation, or more likely argument, for another time though, he supposed.

“Your friend is in the kitchen,” he said flatly.

Octavia furrowed her brows. “Which friend?”

“The blonde one.”

“Clarke? Clarke is here?” Her hazel eyes lit up. For reasons Bellamy couldn’t understand — the two of them had absolutely nothing in common — Octavia and Clarke had become friends instantly when they had taken an anatomy class together during one of their first semesters at college. Octavia had liked the rich pre-med student so much that she had even invited her to join her volleyball team. It had been at one of their matches that Bellamy had first seen Clarke. Not that he had time to think about that right now.

“It would seem so,” Bellamy said as he tried to banish all thoughts of Clarke, with her blonde curly hair in a high ponytail, wearing what had to be the world’s shortest and tightest shorts — shorts he had in no way wanted to see on his little sister but didn’t mind all that much on her new friend.

“Why is Clarke here in the middle of the night?” Octavia asked, snapping him out of his trip down memory lane.

“Some kind of water damage in her dorm room, and since you’ve so kindly said that our door is always open, she’ll be bunking with you until it’s fixed.”

“Yeah… so that might be a little difficult,” Octavia said. She bit her lower lip and at least had the audacity to look a little sheepish.

“You have Lincoln in there, don’t you?” Bellamy sighed. Even though he had no issue with Octavia being with Lincoln, or even with Lincoln spending the night at their place, he did have a problem with people who weren’t honest with him. “I thought we had a deal that you’d tell me when you invite him over? I think we’d all like to avoid a repeat of the bathroom incident.” Just as he said it, Lincoln, who wasn’t wearing a shirt, came up behind Octavia, towering over her and looking even more sheepish than his girlfriend.

Octavia laughed as they all remembered the first time Lincoln had spent the night. In the morning, he had woken up alone. Hearing the sound of running water, he had gone to join his girlfriend. Little did he know that Octavia had gone out to get them all coffee and donuts while Bellamy had a shower. It was fair to say that it had not been the best start to Bellamy and Lincoln’s relationship. “I don’t know Bell, I thought that was kind of the best.”

Bellamy could feel the corners of his mouth twitching but steadied his face in his most parent-like grimace. “Regardless of your skewed definition of what ‘the best’ is,” Octavia rolled her eyes at his air quotes, which he ignored because it made him feel like he was about forty, “the rule is that anyone having someone staying over gives the other person a heads up, okay?” Since Bellamy never really had anyone staying over, he might as well have changed the unspecific pronouns.

“Yeah yeah, I’m sorry, but Lincoln was having some family trouble and asked if he could stay here a while to which I said yes, so…”

“So what you’re saying is that your friend will be borrowing my bed?” He sighed.

“I can just sleep on the couch. I don’t mind,” came Clarke’s voice from the adjoining room. She had clearly heard everything. “Oh, and hi Octavia and Lincoln,” she added sounding much too chipper for someone who’d had to leave their room in the middle of the night.

“Hi, Clarke!” the couple said in unison, earning a raised eyebrow from Bellamy. Even though they had only been together for about a year, it seemed like they were always on the same page.  
Octavia slapped his arm. “You can’t let her sleep on that couch — it’s atrocious!” she whispered.

“I wasn’t going to,” Bellamy said defensively, honestly a little hurt that his sister would think that he would let anyone sleep on that old thing. That wasn’t how he had raised them to treat their guests — invited or uninvited though they may be. “Could you please just find a pillow and some extra blankets for her, so we can all get back to sleep? I have another Roman history class at 8.”

“Sure thing, Mr. Blake!” Octavia said as she winked and moved past him to properly greet her friend and make sure that she was settled for the night. Lincoln looked after her lovingly, affirming Bellamy’s believe that this tall, bald, tough-looking, tattooed guy really did love his little sister.

“How long do you reckon it takes to fix a ceiling?” Bellamy asked him as he began mentally preparing himself to sleep on the couch.


	2. Chapter 2

Clarke woke up early, as she always did and, for a moment, she couldn’t figure out where she was. The sheets she was tangled in felt scratchier than her own, rough against the bare skin of her legs. They smelled different to: more manly, all cedar and musk. She inhaled deeply, letting the scent wash over her, and then she remembered: she was in Bellamy Blake’s bed. She would be lying to herself if she didn’t admit that she had fantasized about being in this exact spot a few times since she had known Bellamy. Not that she had told anyone about it — you weren’t really supposed to lust after your friends’ family members. She couldn’t help but think how this bed and this room smelled exactly like she had imagined they would. Clarke sighed. In her dreams, she hadn’t been alone like she was now. She sat up and looked around Bellamy’s bedroom. Apart from the many bookshelves that lined the wall opposite the bed, the small room was quite sparse. Light carpet, white walls, a pile of neutral-colored pillows on the floor — where they had probably been since Octavia had bought them for her brother to glam up the space — an old black armchair, and a single picture that at least added a bit of color. Getting up and putting on her clothes, Clarke walked over to see that the picture was an old kid’s drawing. In it, a lanky boy and small girl were standing beneath a tree so big it touched the clouds. Both were smiling widely, their faces covered in freckles. Even though Octavia couldn’t have been very old when she drew it, she and her brother were easily recognizable. Clarke smiled. Bellamy might seem blunt and dismissive with most people but he clearly loved his sister. And even though he’d obviously been annoyed that she’d shown up on his doorstep, he’d insisted that she sleep in his bed rather than on the old couch. She had tried to insist that she’d be fine, that she’d had worse — something he very much didn’t seem to believe — but he had not budged. Clarke looked at her watch. It was only 6.30. Should she stay in here a little longer to avoid waking anyone, or should she sneak into the kitchen and make some coffee so she would at least have a peace offering for them when they awoke? Deciding on the latter, she made her way to the kitchen.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sound of something breaking pierced the silence of the sleepy apartment, and it was quickly accompanied by a stream of hushed curses Bellamy didn’t think girls like Clarke were supposed to know. Bellamy groaned. He had slept poorly and was now being awoken even worse. This already seemed like it would be an exceptionally trying Monday.

Clarke popped her head around the doorframe. “I’m sorry I woke you up. And smashed your cup. I just thought I’d make some coffee for everyone.”

“It’s fine, I’ve gotta get ready for class any—AARGH!” As Bellamy had made to sit up, something in his lower back protested. It felt like the muscles were tangled together into one big knot of pain bent on ruining his ability to move.

“Are you okay?” Clarke asked as she rushed to his side. She didn’t hesitate to help him get up from the couch. As she placed her hands under his arms and helped him rise from the depths of its deceivingly soft cushions, she pressed herself slightly against him to better lift his weight. He could feel her chest against his side. His eyes slid down to where her shirt dipped to show off her cleavage. _It really shouldn’t be possible to look that good in an old cotton shirt_ , he thought. _Don’t even go there, Bellamy_. He untangled himself from her grip a bit too roughly. Hurt flashed quickly across her face as she curled her arms protectively around her middle.

“I’m fine. Just a bit of a sore back,” he said. Even the simple act of speaking seemed to hurt though, and he bent over slightly as he tried to apply pressure to the culprit muscles.

“Are you sure? My mom’s a doctor, I could call her and ask if she has time to take a look at you.”

“No thank you.”

“Are you sure? She could probably prescribe something for the pa—”

“I’m fine. I don’t need anything for the pain,” he said, cutting her off.

“But I’m sure she could get you something for free, if you’re worried about the cost,” Clarke said.

“There’s no need to involve your mother,” he said harshly, thinking back to that first time he had seen Clarke. And her mother.

The way he seemed to have snarled “your mother” made Clarke flinch. “Do you have a problem with my mother too or just with me?”

“I don’t have a problem with anyone.”

“Really? Could’ve fooled me.”

“I just don’t need anyone meddling in my business or trying to throw money or nepotism at my problems.”

“Wow, didn’t realize that’s what I was doing. Here I thought I was trying to help someone.” Before he could reply — what would he even have said — she continued, “I think I’ll just go study at the library.” Clarke went to get her things. A few moments later, she stormed by him, pulling on her boots and trying to close her very cool — but much too cold-looking — leather jacket at the same time. “You have a nice day now!” she snarled as she smacked his front door.

Stunned, Bellamy stood looking after her. What the hell just happened? Had he actually accused his sister’s friend of nepotism at 7am?

“Really, Bell? This is how you make people feel welcome?” Octavia asked as she came to stand beside him.

“I’m sorry, O. I know she’s your friend. I just don’t see why she couldn’t stay with some of the people in her dorm or, I don’t know, her parents?”

“This is exactly why I tell you that you never listen when I tell you about my friends!” she sighed.

“What?”

“Clarke can’t stay with any of the people at Sky Kru because they all hate her because of the Finn-thing?”

“The Finn-thing?” He looked at her blankly. Was that some sort of drug thing kids did these days? Did Clarke do drugs? He wouldn’t have pegged her for it.

Octavia sighed and began explaining in an exasperated tone that made it seem as if this was a story she had already told him more than once. “So, freshman year Clarke began seeing this Sky Kru guy named Finn Collins. Artistic, long hair, perfect teeth, cold brew hipster, you know the type, the whole first-university-boyfriend package. Well, it was all fun and games for a few months, until the girlfriend he hadn’t told Clarke about came home from a semester abroad and everyone found out that he’d been cheating on this girl Raven with her. Because people are garbage, they all decided to blame it on Clarke instead of Finn even though Raven didn’t even blame her. Fucking internalized patriarchy. Anyway, ever since that, none of the people at her dorm talk to her, and they’ve basically Scarlet Lettered her… So yeah, that’s why Clarke isn’t exactly popular with the Sky Kru crew.”

“Why doesn’t she move?” Bellamy couldn’t see someone like Clarke accepting getting the Hester Prynne-treatment. Much could probably be said about her, but she didn’t take any bullshit. Or at least not his bullshit, as he had just witnessed.

“She wants to, but with all of her classes, volunteering at the hospital, and shadowing one of the doctors there, she doesn’t have much time to put in enough hours at the Brew to afford it.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh’.”

“Well, why doesn’t she move back in with her rich, doctor parents? They live nearby, don’t they? I bet you they have enough rooms to house an entire flooded dorm.”

“She and her mother aren’t really in the best place right now. They haven’t been since her dad died.”

“Her dad died?”

“Yes, Bellamy. Remember earlier this year when I put on a black dress and said, ‘Hey, I’m off to go support Clarke at her dad’s funeral’? What is it with you? It’s like you stop listening every time I even mention her.”

Bellamy didn’t answer her question. “So during the last year, she’s lost her father, stopped talking to her mother, and been shunned by everyone she lives with?”

“Yes.”

“But she always seems so… I don’t know… chipper.”

“Yeah well, we can’t all go for surly,” Octavia said, making a grimace at him. “Besides, Clarke’s just as stubborn and bad at asking for help as you are. I can’t imagine how much self-convincing it took for her to even show up here last night. Let’s just say a lot. Actually, now that I think of it, she has the exact same issue you do with your whole ‘I bear it so they don’t have to’ attitude. It’s alright to lean on others, you know? Asking for help is allowed, even if you’re super intelligent and capable and whatnot.”

Bellamy didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that he and Clarke Griffin might have something in common. That they might be similar in some profound way. Neither could he forget how quickly she had offered to ask her mother to help him. Apparently, she wouldn’t ask the woman for help for herself but she would for a guy who’d pretty much only been a dick to her.  
Octavia could tell the cogs were turning inside his head and didn’t pressure him to answer. “Please just try to be a little nicer to her, big brother.” Octavia stood on her toes and kissed him on the cheek.

“And have a shower, it’s not just your attitude that stinks.”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Clarke was cleaning the espresso machine for what felt like the tenth time that shift. She sighed. It seemed like the day had dragged on even though it was only 4 pm. Studying for her exams hadn’t gone well. It rarely did when one was as annoyed as she’d been this morning, so when Octavia had messaged her to ask if she could cover for her at the Brew, she had agreed. Doing anything other than stare at her books and think about Octavia’s older brother would be good for her mental health. Also, she needed to pick up a lot of shifts if she was ever going to afford a place of her own. Somewhere where no one minded if she broke the cups or if her mother happened to be a doctor. She sighed again.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna talk about it? You’ve been sighing since you got here, and I happen to know that I’m excellent company,” said her favorite co-worker, besides Octavia obviously, Monty Green.

“It’s nothing, it’s just one of those days,” she said, waving one hand dismissively in his direction.

“One of those days where you tell your good friend what’s wrong?” he asked, trying to coax it out of her in his usual Monty fashion.

Clarke couldn’t help but smile; Monty would always try to cheer everyone, from co-worker to customer, up if he thought he could help in any way. “Just not the best start to the day, you know? Broke a cup, got told off by Bellamy, couldn’t study.”

“Hold on! Bellamy as in Octavia’s Bellamy? You broke Bellamy Blake’s cup? Why were you near his cups? Are you two hooking up?” Monty’s voice got progressively louder with each question he spurted out. He said the last part so enthusiastically that an elderly woman looked up from her knitting magazine, giving him a chastising look. He added in a whisper, “Seriously though, are you? Because you totally should be, that guy’s dreamy.”

“No!” Clarke hissed at him, shooting the woman an apologetic look. The woman tsked. _There go our tips_ , she thought. “I’m staying with him and Octavia while my ceiling gets fixed, but he doesn’t like me very much. I always just thought that he didn’t want to hang around Octavia’s friends but apparently he has some sort of issue with me and my mom.”

“Your mom? When has he met her?”

“Well he hasn’t, I don’t think. Not really. They were both at my first volleyball match, but I don’t know that they talked to each other. I didn’t even talk to him that night, so I don’t see why my mother would have.”

“Weird,” Monty said. “Maybe he just doesn’t like doctors?”

“Maybe.” Clarke couldn’t help but remember Bellamy’s comment about throwing money at things. There was definitely something else bothering him. Could he really dislike her just because her mother happened to have money?

“Maybe we’re about to find out,” her friend said, suddenly sounding excited.

“What?” She looked up from the quite dry mug that she had been absentmindedly rubbing with a dish towel to see none other than Bellamy Blake stepping into the mostly empty coffee shop. He still looked like someone in pain, and was it her or did he actually look a bit nervous? When he spotted her, he raised one of his big hands in a sort of awkward half-wave. Clarke resolutely turned around and pretended to clean the espresso machine. Again.

“Welcome to the Brew, what can I get you today?” Monty asked in his most customer-friendly voice, apparently pretending that he didn’t recognize Octavia’s older brother and that they hadn’t just been talking about him.

“A cappuccino, please.”

“And would that be to stay or to go?” Monty asked.

There was a slight pause. “To go, I think.”

“Very well, and what may I write on your cup?”

“How about ‘ridiculous person who accuses people who try to help him of nepotism for no good reason’?”

“That’s a bit much. I might just put down ‘Dick.’”

As Monty said this, Clarke could hear the unmistakable sound of the old lady tsking again. Monty turned around to make the cappuccino and nudged Clarke away from the machine. She turned around to face Bellamy. Saying nothing, she crossed her arms across her chest, looking up at him challengingly. Why did he have to be so damn tall and look so good in that old sweater? Was that even allowed?  
“I wanted to apologize for this morning. I wasn’t being very friendly, and I realize you were just trying to help. So yeah, I’m sorry for being such an ungrateful asshole,” he said. It finally became too much for the elderly lady, who got up resolutely and walked out, mumbling to herself about youths and their foul language. All three stared after her in various degrees of confusion. Bellamy turned back around and looked at her, probably expecting her to accept his gracious apology.

“Octavia told you to apologize, didn’t she?” she accused instead.

“Yes, but I—”

“Thought so,” Clarke cut him off.

“Listen, I really am sorry, Clarke. I didn’t know about your mom or your dad, and—”

“I don’t want your forced apology or your pity, Bellamy. I’m doing just fine without either.” Monty made a small coughing sound and Clarke kicked back one leg hitting him in the shin. Suddenly his cough was much improved.

“I never apologize if I don’t mean it,” Bellamy said emphatically.

Clarke didn’t know how to respond to that. From the serious look on his face, he was probably telling the truth, but she didn’t feel like he deserved to be praised just for apologizing when he had so obviously been in the wrong. “Was that all?” she finally said.

“No, I also wanted to ask you if you like pasta?”

Of all the things Bellamy could have said to her in that moment, Clarke would never have guessed this would be the one. “What?”

“Do you like pasta? I’m cooking dinner tonight and since you’re staying with us for the time being, I wanted to make sure I make something that you actually like.” He looked at her. “So do you? Like pasta, I mean?”

“Like a pasta bake?” she asked, not able to hide her true feelings about that particular type of dish.

“Pasta bake? Have a little faith, Clarke. Do I look like a pasta bake kind of guy to you?”

With his sort of rugged look, large hands, and muscly arms, he looked more like the kind of guy who could go out into the woods and kill something for dinner, but Clarke obviously couldn’t say that. “I haven’t really thought much about your cooking skills.”

“Well, you better start, because I’m making spaghetti carbonara.” He smirked. Did he really just smirk at her? Was he flirting? Who the hell went from telling someone off to flirting with them? “I’ll have dinner ready at 7. You get off at around 6, right?” he continued.

“Yes, she does,” Monty said as he handed Bellamy his coffee.

“Great. See you then.” Smiling quickly at her, he turned around and left a stunned Clarke standing there looking after him. She was highly confused about this sudden turn of events.  
“You have a date with Bellamy Blake!”

“I do not. I’m having dinner with him, his sister, and her boyfriend.”

“Semantics. He’s making Italian, that’s romantic.”

“No, it’s pasta. End of conversation.”

“You like him, don’t you?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do! You don’t care what other people think of you. After the way you’ve been treated at Sky Kru you’ve practically grown immune. Just last week, when that horrible guy was yelling at you for accidentally using whole milk instead of skim, you just smiled and asked if he would like a refund or a new beverage on the house! But today you’ve spent your entire shift sulking. About him.”

“No, I haven’t,” she said. She could feel a slight warm rising in her cheeks.

“Whatever you say, Clarke. Whatever you say.” There was a moment of silence. “What’s your problem with pasta bake, anyway?”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Turn around,” Octavia said, still looking down at her phone.

“Did you forget something?” Lincoln asked, eyes on the road. He had just picked her up from the library where she had been studying.

“No, but Bellamy is making dinner,” she said.

“And why would we wanna miss that? Your brother is an excellent cook.”

“You know, Lincoln, he’s not actually here so you don’t need to try to suck up to him. Besides, I’m sure he’s forgiven you for walking in on him in the shower.”

“I’m sure he would, if you would stop mentioning it every chance you get.” He groaned.

“Fat chance!” Octavia laughed. He couldn’t help but smile a little. When she was happy, he was happy.

“Why can’t we go home and eat?”

“Because if we go home then we’ll all have to eat dinner together, which will be nice and all, but you just know I’ll be the one starting every conversation while trying to get them to talk. Buuut if we don’t go home, then they’ll have to talk to each other, find out how much they actually have in common, and then they’ll have to start liking each other.” She said it as if this was the only possible outcome.

“So, you’re trying to _Parent Trap_ your brother and your friend?”

“ _Parent Trap_ , get them to realize they’d be great for each other. Tomato, tomato.”

“You’re such a Slytherin,” Lincoln said, shaking his head, as he made to get off the road.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As Clarke stepped into the apartment, she was greeted by the smell of roasting garlic bread. Walking into the kitchen, she came to a sudden halt. There was Bellamy. In his kitchen. In an apron. A laugh escaped her before she could stop herself. She clamped her hand over her mouth. Bellamy turned around and their eyes met. Clarke’s laughter died in her chest, replaced by a feeling she couldn’t name. His eyes were so goddamn nice. She looked down at the apron. It was white and green, checkered, and absolutely grandmotherly. Bellamy followed her gaze and a smile spread on his face.

“Uhm… yeah… so O bought it for me after I accidentally spilled tomato sauce all over myself. Not sure why she went for this one though.”

“Maybe she thought it would be classier than those ‘Kiss the Chef’ ones you always see guys wearing in movies?” As soon as the words left her mouth, she couldn’t help but picture it: Bellamy in a ‘Kiss the Chef’ apron, possibly wearing nothing underneath. Before he could say anything, she blurted, “Might be weird to get one of those from your sister. Anyway, where are Octavia and Lincoln?”

“Apparently something came up with Lincoln’s family, so it’ll just be the two of us for dinner.”

“Oh, okay,” she said, though it really wasn’t. Clarke had definitely been banking on Octavia to keep the conversation between the two of them going.

“I hope it’s okay that I made garlic bread.”

“Why wouldn’t it be okay?”

“Well, my ex always gave me a hard time. Thought I put too much garlic in everything.” Bellamy winced as he mentioned his ex. Clarke had never met Echo, but based on the stories Octavia told, she sounded pretty high-strung and sort of intimidating. “What I meant to say is that I know not everyone likes the smell.”

“Well, I like garlic, so you don’t have to worry about me. It’s not like I have a hot date after or anything.” Now she was the one wincing, why did she say it like that? Like she was undateable or something. Not that she wanted Bellamy to think of her dateability — that much, anyway. They both made a half-assed attempt at a care-free laugh. They failed. Why did they have to be so awkward?

“So…” Clarke began as she sat down at the table which Bellamy had already set out for the two of them. “How’s your writing going? Your thesis is on the Roman Empire, right?”

“That’s right. But I’m sure you don’t wanna hear about that,” he said. Clarke could tell he was practiced in this dance.

“I never ask if I don’t mean it,” she said trying to copy the serious face Bellamy had made when he had told her something similar this afternoon. A smile spread across his face.

“Just remember that you asked for it,” he said as he put the pasta dish and the garlic bread in front of her.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Much later, the pasta, the garlic bread, and a bottle of red wine were gone. Bellamy had told Clarke all about his PhD project, his much older colleagues, and his challenges teaching people who weren’t that much younger than him. He was surprised at how genuinely interested she seemed and at how many questions she asked. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone besides Octavia had feigned more than a sliver of interest in his work. It was a strange but welcome feeling.

“You’re really a full-on nerd, Bellamy. I never quite believed Octavia when she told us as much, but now there’s no denying it,” Clarke said as she smiled at him. “I mean, how many people can say that they’ve been interested in the same thing their whole life? When I was little, I was convinced I was gonna be either an astronaut or mermaid and look where I ended up.” Her laughter was contagious and it brightened up her face.

“How do you know I’ve been interested in Roman history my whole life?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“Well, maybe not your whole life, but at least Octavia’s. You named her for Augustus’ sister, right?”

“Yeah,” he said, suddenly avoiding her gaze. Bellamy had only been seven when his mother had given birth to Octavia, but he had quickly assumed responsibility for her.

“I’m sorry,” Clarke said softly in that raspy voice of hers. “I know that neither of you like to talk much about your mother.” It was as if she had read his mind, had seen the years of pain and neglect painted across his face like freckles, an undeniable truth. He looked up at her again. Her green eyes were filled with so much sympathy that it made him want to either look away or drown in them.

“Does O not talk about her to you?”

“Not really. It’s pretty much the only thing she doesn’t talk about,” she answered. Bellamy exhaled audibly, making up his mind. “You don’t have to tell me,” Clarke said quickly. He ignored her.

“She was an addict. Pills, booze, whatever she could get her hands on, basically. She couldn’t take care of us. But I knew that if anyone found out how bad things really were, they would take us away and put us in the system. Split us up.” Bellamy clenched his fists and he could feel his nails digging into his palms, settling into old creases that never fully got to heal.

“Maybe you would have been placed in the same foster family?” Clarke suggested, not sounding certain at all. They both knew the system usually wasn’t a good place to be.

“Maybe. But I couldn’t take that chance. She’s _my_ sister, _my_ responsibility.”

“So you’ve been taking care of her since you were seven?”

“Pretty much. When I was 15, I went through this ‘whatever the hell I want’ phase where I stopped caring about doing it the right way though. Started doing it the easy way: skipping school, shoplifting groceries, stealing money from people.” He stopped, remembering the kind of crowd he’d gotten himself caught up with, the same crowd his mother would hang around, begging for just one more hit. “I almost got caught. Barely escaped from an off-duty cop I tried to pickpocket. That’s when I knew I had to stop doing things the easy way. That I had to set the right example for O if I wanted us to stay together, if I wanted her to grow up right.” Bellamy uncurled his tight fists and placed his hands on the table to keep from balling them up again. Clarke put one of her much smaller hands on one of his and squeezed it lightly.

“I’m glad you told me,” she said. “And for what it’s worth, I think both you and Octavia grew up just fine.”  
Bellamy honestly couldn’t believe he had told her. Very few people in his life knew how bad things had been for him and O growing up. He cleared his throat, breaking the moment. He stood abruptly and started clearing the table. Clarke got up too. He could tell she felt a little thrown by the change of pace.

“Bellamy Blake, a young delinquent! Who would’ve thought? What would my mother say to my staying here!” She said in a mock-posh tone. She laughed but quickly stopped when he didn’t join her.  
He knew that she was just trying to lighten the mood, to let him off the hook, but at her mention of her mother, he could feel the anger welling up in him again. It must have shown on his face.

“Bellamy,” Clarke said quietly. “Would you please just explain what it is you have against my mom?” She sounded calm enough, but he knew from this morning that she had just as big of a temper as he did.

“Do you remember your first volleyball match?”

“Yeah,” she said uncertainly. “That was the first time I saw you. You and my mom were both there, but I didn’t think you’d talked.”

“Well, I was on my way over to say hello to you, welcome you to the team or whatever, when I overheard the two of you talking. She asked why you would play on such a ragtag team when you could so easily get on her old sorority’s team and make important career connections and whatnot.”

“I remember. She was in an especially good mood that night,” Clarke said ironically.

“She called my sister a gold digger. Said she was only hanging out with you because she was hoping to get money from you.” Even through gritted teeth, his voice rose in strength. He expected Clarke to cower but she stood her ground.

“I remember,” she said again. “I remember everything she said about Octavia. But do you remember what I said? Did you bother to stick around to hear it, or did you just assume that I’m a snob like my mother?”

Bellamy didn’t say anything. He hadn’t stuck around. He had gotten so angry he knew he had to leave or he would say or do something both he and O would regret. He’d walked to his car and sat there fuming until his sister had joined him a while later.

“We’re not our parents, Bellamy,” Clarke said simply.

“No, we’re not,” Bellamy said. They stood looking at each other for a few moments. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Again.”

“Everything makes so much more sense now, though. This morning. Why you always seem to be avoiding me. Because you have been avoiding me, haven’t you?”

“Maybe just a bit.”

“But why, Bellamy? Why would you think I thought Octavia was a gold digger and yet continue to hang out with her? It just doesn’t add up.”

“I don’t know,” he said defensively. He really didn’t have a good explanation. People didn’t get many chances with him. Either you were in, or you were out. And Clarke was out. Or had been out. Had been off-limits in more ways than one.

“Well, have I finally proven myself to you? Am I worthy enough?” Clarke’s voice rose as she spoke, and he could tell that her anger from this morning was back. Bellamy knew a trick question when he heard one, and he knew that there was no right answer to the ones Clarke has just posed.

“Clarke, I..”

“Don’t bother, Bellamy. Three apologies in one day is more than I can handle.” She left him standing in the kitchen looking after her and wanting to explain — what, he didn’t even fully understand. That it was easier to tell himself that she thought she was better than them? That she thought she was out of his league? Rather than acknowledge that he was the fucked up one who never gave anyone a chance before he pushed them away.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Clarke was fuming when she walked into the living room. Why did Bellamy have to fluctuate between making her stomach flutter and her blood boil? Why did he have to be so freaking infuriating? Of course, now that he told her about his childhood, she understood why he might have a hard time trusting other people. But that didn’t mean he should be allowed to go around judging other people and assuming the worst. He didn’t get to make up an unchangeable image of who she was. She wouldn’t let him get away with that. Clarke looked over at the couch. She snatched up his pillow and comforter and walked purposefully towards his bedroom.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After he finished cleaning the kitchen, Bellamy walked into the living room. He might as well just go to sleep, at least that way he couldn’t fuck up anything else. He stopped short. His blanket and comforter were no longer on the treacherous couch. Had he moved them this morning? He didn’t think so. After all, his back had been even worse then, and his mind had been focused on other things. He looked around the slightly cluttered room but didn’t see them anywhere. He didn’t think O would have moved them. This left only one explanation: Clarke. He walked over to his bedroom. He hesitated for a moment. She wouldn’t have thrown them out the window or something, would she?

“Uhm, Clarke, did you move my stuff?” he asked through the door.

“Yes.”

“And where did you put them?”

“On your bed. You’re not sleeping on that couch again.”

“Well, you shouldn’t sleep on it either,” he said. Even though she was a few years younger, he suspected the cushions would do just as much damage to her back as they had to his.

“I know,” Clarke said as she opened the door. She had already changed into her night gear and was wearing an old Arkadia University shirt and a pair of grey shorts that showed off most of her pale legs.

“I’m not screwing up my back just because I’m stubborn,” she continued with a pointed glare.

“So what is your plan then? We both sleep in my bed?”

“Yes.”

“But you’re angry with me.”

“No, I’m _frustrated_ with you.”

“Well, we’re not exactly friends.”

“And whose fault is that? You’ve decided that I’m a spoiled princess who thinks she’s too good to be friends with someone like you or Octavia. Well I’m not, and if you won’t believe me when I tell you, I guess I’ll have to show you.”

He didn’t know what to say. He supposed he had come to think of her that way without actually bothering to get to know her and find out for himself. It had been easier that way. Smaller chance of disappointment.

“I know you’ve had it hard, Bellamy. No one should have to take care of their sibling or their parent when they’re just kids. No kid should have to see their parent struggling with addiction. Really hard things have happened to you, but things don’t always have to be hard, and you shouldn’t make them hard when they’re actually pretty simple. I need a place to sleep, you need a place to sleep, there’s a bed and a horrible couch, it’s not rocket science.”

“Okay,” he said.

“Okay?” She looked like she had a whole other speech prepared, like she hadn’t thought he would give in this easily.

“Okay,” he repeated, looking directly into her green eyes. “I’ll just go brush my teeth.”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It had been a while since Clarke had slept next to anyone, but after a brief time of awkwardness, her body had started to relax and she fell asleep to the steady sound of Bellamy’s breathing. Apparently, he was one of those people who were out cold as soon as their head hit the pillow. But as she learned, at least he didn’t snore.


	3. Chapter 3

Tuesday, she also learned that Bellamy Blake could make a mean cup of hot chocolate and melt her heart just a little in the process.

After the initial weirdness of waking up next to each other, the two of them agreed that Bellamy would make breakfast while Clarke had a shower. No one directly mentioned the Bellamy/Lincoln bathroom incident but both knew this was the reason for the formal agreement. When Clarke went into the kitchen after her shower, there was a bowl of cereal and a cup of hot chocolate waiting for her. Bellamy seemed to be grading papers while drinking from his own cup.

“I feel like I’m nine again,” she said as she sat down. Bellamy looked up, seeming slightly confused. “When I was nine, my mom worked for Doctors Without Borders for a year and it was just me and my dad. He couldn’t cook if his life depended on it so we basically lived on cereal and pizza for a year.” She smiled as she thought about his disastrous attempts at cooking for them. “But he would always make me hot chocolate though.”

Bellamy put down his pencil. “I know you didn’t want to hear me say it yesterday, but I really am sorry about your dad.”

“Thank you,” Clarke said. “Sometimes I still can’t believe he’s really gone.”

“What happened to him? If I might ask.”

“Heart attack. We were having dinner at a restaurant my mom had been nagging us about going to and it just happened. One minute he was feeling fine, teasing my mom about ordering something just because it sounded fancy, and the next thing we knew, he collapsed. We tried reviving him. But there was nothing we could do. He was already gone.” 

“I’m so sorry you had to witness that. I hope the hot chocolate is as good as his.”  
Clarke took a sip as she tried to blink back her tears. “It’s better, actually. Because he wasn’t very good at making that either.” She couldn’t help but laugh. Tears started rolling down her cheeks as she did so. Bellamy cupped her cheek, brushing away a tear with his thumb. Clarke’s breath caught and Bellamy drew his hand away, scared that maybe she didn’t want to be touched.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“That’s okay. Thanks for the hot chocolate,” Clarke said. She dried her cheeks with the sleeve of her shirt. “Maybe you should take my shift at the Brew. If you can make this,” she said, raising her mug, “I’m sure you could master the espresso machine in no time.”

“Well that would mean you would have to correct these papers on The Conflict of the Orders, and I’m guessing you’re not down to do that?” he said with a grin on his face.

“Your guess would be correct. Although I think your freshmen might appreciate having someone who knows nothing about Rome correcting their essays.”

“They would probably appreciate that more than your customers would appreciate my attempts at lattes and cappuccinos.”

“Perhaps,” she said. “Or perhaps you’re just afraid that the old lady you got to leave yesterday will be back to lecture you about your foul language,” Clarke said, smiling at him as she stood up.

“Oh, she hasn’t heard the half of it,” he smirked. Clarke could feel heat rising in her body at the thought of the filthy words that might come out of Bellamy’s mouth on other occasions. She made what was probably more of a grimace than a smile and left the room before he could see how much his words truly affected her. She thought she heard him chuckling to himself in a low voice.


	4. Chapter 4

The next day, Bellamy found out that Clarke Griffin could dance and it made him want her even more.

Bellamy was met by the deafening sound of “Last Christmas” when he came home after class. Already, before he entered the apartment, he could hear the music of the infamous Christmas song blaring through his front door.

Once inside, he saw Clarke and Octavia dancing in the living room, fully embracing the ‘dance like no one is watching’ philosophy. Considering that none of them had been born in the 80s, their moves were actually pretty spot-on as they moved their shoulders and hips in tune with the beat. They were both singing along at the top of their lungs. He would probably have to stop them, if he didn’t want the neighbors to make a complaint against them, but they looked so carefree that he couldn’t make himself do it.

He quietly shut the door and watched them — or rather, he watched Clarke — from where he stood. Her dancing made him appreciate her curvaceous body in a whole new way, and he could feel his body reacting to it. When she noticed him watching them, she stopped dancing, looking slightly embarrassed.

“Don’t stop on my account,” he said as moved into the room, putting down his leather messenger bag on the couch.

“Oh, I think I will. This is a participation party, so unless you wanna join in, it’s over,” Clarke said. One of her eyebrows shot up like she was issuing him a challenge.

“Bellamy doesn’t dance,” Octavia said, as she continued to do so herself.

“Why?” Clarke asked, looking from one Blake sibling to the other.

Bellamy shrugged. “It just doesn’t look very good, so I’ve decided to spare the world from having to endure my moves.”

“How bad can it be?”

“Pretty bad,” Octavia said before Bellamy could answer himself. She deftly avoided the pillow he threw at her. She danced out of the room laughing as she went. Clarke and Bellamy both shook their heads.

“Your sister is crazy,” she said.

“Yeah well, your friend is worse,” he retorted.

Clarke laughed. “Seriously though how bad can your dancing be?”

“Trust me, you don’t wanna see it.”

“Oh, but I do.”

“I need a whole lot more alcohol in my system before that kind of goading works,” he said. Their back and forth made his whole body feel alive.

“Well, that can be arranged. I know for a fact that you have five more bottles of that good wine in the kitchen.”

“Have you been snooping when I’m off teaching?”

“Of course. What kind of girl do you take me for?”

“I really don’t know anymore,” he said honestly. The last few days of getting to know her had been a rollercoaster with high highs and low lows, tender moments and angry brawls, and she continued to surprise him.

“Sooo wine?” She smiled. There was hope and something else that Bellamy couldn’t figure out in her green eyes. She looked incredible in her jeans and t-shirt, which clung a little tighter to her after the dancing had made her sweaty. He had no idea what throwing wine into this mix might bring out in him.

“Another time. I have to finish writing one of my chapters while I can still remember the point I wanted to argue,” he said, chickening out because he didn’t fully trust himself.

“Another time then,” she said. She looked as disappointed as he felt. Bellamy looked longingly after her as she went to join Octavia in her room.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

That night, Clarke found out that Bellamy Blake sometimes spoke in his sleep, and it made her like him even more.

At some point during the night, Clarke woke up to a mumbling voice. Disoriented, she wondered if she had forgotten to turn off the podcast she had been listening to as she fell asleep. But as she reached out to grab her phone and headphones, she realized it wasn’t coming from the device. It was coming from the man lying next to her.

Bellamy was mumbling. Not actual words but something akin to words. She could hear, by the rise and fall in his intonation, that he was having a conversation with someone in his dream. He chuckled, and Clarke couldn’t help but smile. It was nice to see him looking as relaxed as he did right now. He rarely looked as carefree when he was awake. Clarke was reaching for her headphones to listen to a bit more of her podcast when Bellamy uttered one distinct word that made her whole body freeze in place. 

“Clarke,” he mumbled into his pillow.

Clarke didn’t move, just watched in astonishment as a smile spread on his tan, freckled face. He must be dreaming about her, she realized. She put down the phone again, lying back down next to Bellamy. He had stopped mumbling but was still smiling. Clarke couldn’t help but look at him as he slept and dreamt of her.


	5. Chapter 5

By Friday, Octavia was sure that her brother and Clarke were falling for each other, and she decided to play her trump card.

As the days passed, she had noticed how they grew more and more comfortable around each other. How they joked more, flirted with each other, and both looked at one another when they thought the other wouldn’t notice — they didn’t, it seemed, but she did. They seemed to seek out opportunities to touch each other in small ways: a stray hair tucked behind an ear, another removed from a sweater.

At breakfast, she looked from Bellamy to Clarke. “Soo, are we all going to the Brew crews Christmas party this evening?” she asked, sounding like she was suggesting a trip to Disney World.

“Is that tonight?” Clarke said. “I totally forgot we were going to that. I didn’t pack a dress for that.”

“You can just borrow one of mine,” Octavia said. “Bell, are you coming with this year?”

“Aren’t you bringing Lincoln as your plus one?”

Lincoln opened his mouth to answer but before he could say anything, Octavia said, “Of course. But you can be Clarke’s guest. She’s not bringing anyone anyway, right Clarke? And I’m sure Miller would be thrilled to see you again.” Monty’s boyfriend, Nathan Miller, had been relieved when Octavia had brought Bellamy along last year, so he didn’t have to be the only one not actually a member of the Brew crew.

“Well, if you don’t mind…” Bellamy looked at Clarke.

“l don’t mind,” she said looking back at him, a smile spreading across her face.

Octavia wanted to do a celebratory dance. “Great! It’s settled then! We’ll take an Uber to M&M’s, so be ready to go at 7 tonight. Clarke, you have to be home no later than 5 so we can find you a dress and do your hair.” As she spoke, Octavia stood up, walked around the table, and kissed everyone on the cheek. “Love you all, see you tonight!” she yelled and then she was gone.

“Hurricane Octavia strikes again,” Lincoln mumbled.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Almost exactly at 7 pm, Octavia and Clarke walked out of Octavia’s room and Bellamy’s jaw almost hit the floor. Clarke had borrowed a dark blue, low-cut dress that clung to her body like cascading water. He couldn’t remember ever seeing Octavia in the dress. He tried to make a mental note to talk to her about responsible shopping habits. He failed. Thinking about anything other than how beautiful the woman in front of him looked seemed like a crime.

Octavia looked from Clarke to Bellamy and back again before she smiled and walked over to Lincoln and whispered something in his ear that made him smile and shake his head at the same time.

“You look beautiful,” Bellamy said as he looked her up and down. He didn’t add that, actually, he thought she looked beautiful no matter what she was wearing, but he could tell that other parts of his body were thinking that she looked especially good right now.

“Thank you. It’s a bit too much for my taste, but it was the only one I could fit my breasts into.” Just as she said it, she blushed slightly as if she couldn’t believe she had said it out loud.

“Are you uncomfortable? Do you wanna change into something else before we leave?” he suggested, worried.

“No, it’s fine. I bet the Uber is here.” As she said it, something pinged on Octavia’s phone. She gestured towards it and Bellamy couldn’t help but be happy that she would have to wear the dress, though he did hope that she wouldn’t be uncomfortable.

“Uber’s here. Let’s go team!” Octavia shouted.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Monty and Miller’s apartment had been transformed into a winter wonderland. There were twinkling Christmas lights, snowflakes, artificial snow, and sprigs of holly and mistletoe everywhere. Monty had been creating new Christmas-themed drinks all afternoon, and Miller, his taster, was already buzzed when they got there. The only downside to the whole set-up, in Clarke’s opinion, was that Finn was there. Apparently, he was dating one of the new girls that Clarke hadn’t had any shifts with yet. Not wanting to ruin Monty’s party though, she tried to ignore him and smiled politely whenever they did make eye contact. Instead, she focused on the handsome man who never left her side. Bellamy looked great in dark pants and a dress shirt, through which you could see all of his muscles. Clarke tried not to stare, she really did, but Bellamy had caught her a few times, smirking as he raised an eyebrow. Clarke found that she didn’t care if he knew. She didn’t know if it was because of the drinks or the time they had been spending together but she had grown so comfortable around him that she wanted him to know exactly what she was thinking. Which, at the moment, was that he looked fine in that shirt.  
After they had eaten the many dishes that Monty had somehow also managed to whip up, all the furniture was moved to make room for dancing.

“The time has come, Blake. Are you ready to dance?” she said to him as Miller put the music on.

“I suppose there’s no getting out of it?”

“You suppose correctly,” she said taking him by the hand and dragging him out into the middle of the room.

He and Octavia hadn’t been lying, he really wasn’t a great dancer. His movements were stiff and awkward, and he kept glancing around to see if any of the others were watching him.

“Hey, just keep looking at me,” Clarke said as she placed a hand on his hot cheek. And so he did. His dark eyes bore into her light ones, and the whole room disappeared around them. There was only them and the music. They danced and danced until a slow song came on. Clarke took it as their cue to stop and get something to drink, but when Bellamy let go of her hands, he placed his own on her hips and pulled her close. Her arms moved around his neck, pulling him down slightly. Clarke didn’t feel like she had moved them herself. Bellamy moved even closer to her. Their bodies pressed against each other, moving with the rhythm of the song.

He leaned down to whisper in her ear, “Is this okay?”

“Yes,” she in a breathy voice. She could feel her breath becoming shallower as she lost herself in his brown eyes. “Kiss me,” she said. Almost before she had uttered the words, his lips touched hers. Lightly at first but then more insistent. She parted her lips, letting him in.

“I want you so much,” he whispered into her ear when they finally broke apart. Clarke didn’t know how to express exactly what she wanted, so she kissed him again. They didn’t stop until Monty hollered and shouted something about getting a room that wasn’t one of his. They smiled at each other, out of breath but incredibly happy. They moved away from the dance floor towards the front door. As luck would have it, they ended up beneath one of Monty’s mistletoes, and Bellamy kissed her again.

“I’ll go get our coats?” he asked as he broke away from her, the hope in his voice a thing with wings.

“Okay,” Clarke said biting her lip. He smiled widely before turning. She watched his retreat, not able to hide the huge grin on her face. He was going to get their coats and then they were going to go home. Together. Her body was already tingling with anticipation.

All of a sudden, she was yanked from her thoughts of what she was going to do to Bellamy once she had him alone as someone pressed their lips against hers roughly and started groping at her body with  
clammy hands.

“Get the hell away from me!” Clarke said pushing the person away. It was Finn.

“Come on, Clarke. I know you wanna get back together, I’ve seen you smiling at me all night, and now you’re just standing here beneath the mistletoe waiting for me. Do you honestly think you can find someone as good for you as me?”

“No, I think I can find someone much better. In fact, I think I already have.”

“That tall guy? Please. I know you rich girls like to slum it sometimes, but you always return to the fold eventually. Why prolong the inevitable?”

“You’re completely insane. I am never getting back together with you. You lied to me. You cheated on your girlfriend. Speaking of, aren’t you here with someone? How can you do this to her? Did you learn nothing from what happened with Raven?”

Finn waved a hand at her dismissively. “She doesn’t mean anything. Neither of them do. Only we matter, Clarke. Only the two of us.”

“There is no ‘the two of us,’ and if you ever try to touch me again, if you ever come near me, I swear to god I’ll knock your precious front teeth out. Now leave me the hell alone.” Finn held up his hands in surrender and walked away.

“Are you okay, Clarke?” Octavia came to stand by her side and put her arm around her shoulder.

“Not really,” she said looking after Finn’s retreating form.

“What happened?”

“He just kissed me. I never wanted him to kiss me,” she said, still recoiling from the way his lips had felt on hers.

“Here’s your coat,” said Bellamy, who was suddenly next to them. He slung her coat at Clarke, never slowing his gate as he continued past them out the front door. She barely caught it.

“Bellamy, where are you going?” she yelled after him. “I’m sorry Octavia,” she said to her friend before she ran after him, struggling to get her coat on. “Bellamy, stop! Where the hell are you going?”

“Home,” he bit out as he continued walking. Clarke struggled to keep up with him.

“Yes, I figured. But why are you angry? Why are you leaving without me? I thought we were going home together. I thought we—”

“I thought so too,” he interrupted her. “But you don’t have to pretend. I heard you talking to O just now. I misjudged the situation, and you didn’t really want to kiss me. So I’m just going to go home. Alone.”

“What? No! I don’t regret kissing _you_. I was telling Octavia how Finn assaulted me right after you went to get our coats.”

“He what?” Bellamy stopped short, and Clarke almost bumped into him.

“He started kissing me out the blue, telling me how I’d never find someone like him and whatnot.”

“I’ll knock out all of his perfect teeth,” he grumbled.

“No need. I’ve already told him I’ll do that myself if he ever dares come close to me again. I don’t need your help; I can fight my own battles. What I can’t do is apparently get through your big skull. You have got to stop running away from people, Bellamy! You can’t just assume you know what’s going on all the time. Sometimes you have to actually ask people to explain what’s going on. Or at the very least you’ve got to give them the benefit of the doubt!” She paused before continuing, “I know that wasn’t a luxury you had growing up but you have to allow yourself to have it now. Otherwise, you’re just gonna keep pushing people away over the stupidest reasons.”

“I know!” He groaned in frustration as he ran his fingers through her tangled hair. “I know I’m fucked up, Clarke. I know I am. I need to do better,” he said more quietly, looking down.

“You do. But you’re no more fucked up than the rest of us. We’re all just trying to do a little better. We all come with baggage, but we don’t need to lug it around forever. We can leave pieces of it that we no longer need behind so it doesn’t drag us down.” Stepping forward, she took his hand. “Either try to leave some of it behind or let me help you carry it.”

“How are you this smart and beautiful at the same time?” he asked, looking into her eyes.

“What can I say, I’m a marvel! And you know, for someone writing a PhD, you’re pretty dumb.”

“Yeah well, I’m not a relationship major.” A smile spread across his face, making him instantly look five years younger.

“Lucky for you, otherwise I don’t think you’d ever get your doctorate.”

“Well maybe I need tutoring?”

“Maybe we should start right now,” Clarke said right before she stood on the tip of her toes and crashed her lips to his once more.

As they kissed, threads of worry tried to creep into her thoughts. Would he push her away again? Would they continue to misunderstand each other? She pushed them all away. Maybe he would, maybe they would, but she didn’t really care. Because right now she was happy.


End file.
